


Not All Ropes Are Lassos (but Donna Troy knows how to use them anyway)

by gala_apples



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Crushes, Dom/sub, F/M, First Time, Genital Torture, M/M, Rope Bondage, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Finding out Donna Troy has a way with ropes is hardly an impediment to Garth's massive crush on her.
Relationships: Garth (DCU)/Dawn Granger/Dick Grayson/Hank Hall/Donna Troy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Not All Ropes Are Lassos (but Donna Troy knows how to use them anyway)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ropes prompt for seasonofkink.

As far as Garth knows, it started with Dawn and Dick. Garth imagines very different conversations based on who approached Donna first. Dawn would have been soft, gently leading Donna halfway down the path before she’d even realized what they were talking about. Dirk would have been bold, his number one strategy in the face of uncertainty or nerves. Garth would say they have Batman to blame for that quality, except before that the guy was an acrobat. Not a lot of room for hesitation there. Either way the result was the same; Donna spending an evening tying them up as a couple. They didn’t leave the bedroom door open, but none were very subtle about the hook up the next day either.

Hank happened some time after that. Or maybe, just maybe, he was before Dawn and Dick and just didn’t get caught for a while. Garth can’t be certain. He just knows one morning he woke up a little earlier than normal, and saw Hank leaving Donna’s room with pink scratch marks all over his bare chest.

As for Garth himself, well, he’s long since come to terms with the far and few boundaries of his decade long crush. They both live complicated lives, but as far as Garth’s concerned they’re destined to be together. He’s always figured that a multiple person relationship would come in the form of her also having a lover in Themyscira, but he’s willing to accept a Titans-wide one instead. So he waits until one of their post victory parties, and before anyone can get drunk enough to make it a dangerous premise, he suggests Donna get out her ropes and give them all a real victory reward.

It’s presumptuous. It’s cocky. It’s all the impulsive Atlantean stereotypes he happens to fit unfortunately perfectly into, a poor representative of his land. But the thing is, it fucking works. Dawn inhales sharply, Dick and Hank both look at her, and Donna adjusts her grip on the neck of the beer bottle like it’s something she can’t admit out loud.

Well, Garth calls bullshit. “Come on, do you really want it to just be all of us coming to you, individually? I know you like control, but really. That’s time consuming, hardly efficient. And if you think about it, wouldn’t running a group scene give you the most control?”

If there’s one thing to be said for Donna Troy -and really, there are a million things, but Garth doesn’t have time to go into all of it- it’s that once she commits to an idea she’s committed. “I’ll go set up in the training room. I’ll text when I’m done.”

It's an awkward handful of minutes, waiting for Donna to get whatever supplies she needs to get. Dirk and Dawn are both eating a banana from the fruit drawer in the fridge, liquor discarded, while Hank’s manfully finishing his beer. No one’s talking, and Garth really wants to say some shit that’ll jolt some energy into everyone, but is aware enough of their personality types to stay shut the fuck up. Instead he turns the tap the slightest bit on, so he can juggle a ball of water. Equally obnoxious, from their perspectives, but less personally offensive.

The gym doesn’t look immediately different, when Dirk’s phone buzzes with Donna’s signal and they go traipsing through the building. There’s a rope dangling between two of the rings making up the aerial obstacle course, and a few towels on the floor, as well as an opaque Tupperware tub. But on the whole, nothing like the portable sex dungeon Garth thought Donna might be creating.

They go over the boilerplate while sitting on the mats: tell me if something goes numb, bondage isn’t meant to hurt, this is your safe word. Garth nods his way through it, the way he nods through debriefs. He trusts his people to have his back, he doesn’t need complication strategy trees.

He’s honoured and a little relieved to be the first person Donna taps for this bondage project. It’s nice to know that among the Titans Garth’s got his own spot in Donna’s heart. It’s also nice to not have the time to mentally pace and worry he made the wrong choice. After a decade of missed connections with Donna, he’s become used to second guessing his choices around her.

Donna starts by uncoiling one of the rope hanks she fishes out of the Tupperware container, shaking it out until it’s a length folded in half. It spirals up his ankle, taut with the way she dips a single side under the coiled section and knots it on itself. She repeats the same action on Garth’s left ankle, and he’d maybe feel weird about how good it feels to be symmetrically adorned, except his head is turned to the rest of the group as he lays on his belly, and he can see the way Dawn’s hand is clamped on Dirk’s knee. At least two others in this group understand the way he’s feeling right now, and Hank’s not walking away.

Garth lays prone as Donna wraps more silky soft rope over his knees, his lower and upper thighs, three separate places on his arms. Garth would never be able to keep this kind of pattern in his mind, could never concentrate that long, but Donna’s got it as easily as whistling. She uses a length of the rope to almost draw a tank top on him, around his armpits and across his belly and collarbones. He can feel it with every exhale, not in a restrictive way, just in a comfortingly present way. Then, in quick succession, his wrists are being tied a foot away from his ankles, and his body is being hoisted up. Donna’s tied him to some gymnastics rings. Garth’s not afraid of heights, but regulation eighteen point eight feet up is different from a horizontal point of view. From the way Dirk, Dawn, and Hank are looking at him, Garth has a feeling this is advanced level shit. He trusts Donna, though, to make it good. Clarification- to continue to make it good. It is currently quite fuckin’ good.

Donna turns her attentions to Dawn next. It’s a show of the ages to watch Donna help Dawn get undressed, the kisses they share between each article of clothing. Dirk doesn’t look jealous in the least. Garth wonders if this has been part of it, each of their trysts, or if it’s new but Dirk can just recognise the hotness for what it is. When she’s fully nude, Donna takes her time wrapping Dawn up in blue rope. The bright cornflower rope hooks around her neck like a halter top, before dipping down to separate her breasts in the front, and offering a line down her spine in the back. The line acts as an anchor for the second rope holding forearm to forearm, hand to elbow.

Donna doesn’t push Dawn to the mat to string her up fully. She doesn’t put rope on her legs at all, to Garth’s mild disappointment. He loves Donna, but Dawn would look good with dusky blue rope curling up luscious thighs. Instead she leads Dawn over to where tied between two more sets of gym rings is a semi taut rope. Dawn doesn’t need the guiding hand to balance, despite her arms tied behind her back, but she likes the touch, and who could blame her?

“If you make it back and forth an acceptable amount of times, Garth will lick you better. He’ll kiss the fire away, smooth the abrasions. You want to earn that, don’t you?”

Garth doesn’t get it for a minute. He can only blame his stupidity on the melt iron hotness of Donna Troy dirty talking, and the thought of eating Dawn out. Eternal devotion to Donna hardly makes Dawn not Playboy bunny hot. Then it hits. The tension of the rope is high as Dawn straddles it, Donna’s hand steadying her. High enough to settle at the top of where it can go: Dawn’s cunt. When Dawn walks forwards Garth can see her labia are parted on either side of the rope. And now that he’s paying attention to the errant rope, he can see it’s made out of a very different material than his own hogtie suspension. It’s thicker, and firmer, not to mention more fibrous. The rough jute is buried in her, and rubbing the most sensitive bits with each step forward.

Garth is still hanging, unattended, as Donna makes her next moves. Unexpected ones. Not just to Garth, who must admit it’s possible he’s out of the loop. But Dirk and Hank seem equally surprised as she strips them to underwear and has them stand facing each other so she can tie Dirk’s right wrist to Hank’s left with evergreen shaded rope.

“I don’t get the individualized service like everyone else?” The sarcasm is a cover for other feelings. It’s obvious. Garth can’t help but wonder if Hank’s having some inappropriate for 2020 homophobic panic. Normally he’d toss out a quip, provoke things, lance a boil if necessary. Strange, how being tied up has quieted the non-stop tidal wave of his head. He’s got perfectly good fodder, he just doesn’t _want to_ speak.

Donna, being Donna, goes with a different approach. “Hank, just try me. I promise you’ll like it.”

“Really.”

“You know your safeword, if I’m wrong. But I’m not. You’re safe. Let me.”

There’s some context here Garth isn’t getting. He’s known Dirk and Donna forever, and Dawn is an open book. Hank has more hard edges than soft ones, and gets annoyed when Garth tries to crack them with a joke. He’s not sure how Donna knows Hank’s secrets, and knows she’ll never share them with anyone else, not that he’d be asshole enough to pry. But evidently Hank trusts in Donna as much as Garth does, because it’s his last protest. Donna uses nearly as many lengths of green rope as she did Garth’s own white, wrapping it around their arms and chests and thighs and ankles, binding them to each other as tightly as superglue, and Hank and Dirk both take it quietly.

Where the noises start is when Donna snakes a hand between them to tug the waistband of Dirk’s briefs. As the elastic extends, she drops a bullet vibe into the fabric. It must already be on, because Dirk jerks forward on contact, rocking Hank with him. Hank’s face reddens, but before embarrassment can be vented into his typical anger, Donna repeats the action and Hank has his own reaction to a vibrator against his shaft. He’s not sure if Dawn is watching or if she’s thoroughly involved in her own predicament, but Garth can’t look away. 

Garth quickly comes to the conclusion that he would pay money for Dirk and Hank to make out. Colour him more pansexual than he thought he was, because he’d put down cold hard cash to watch Stoic Boy Wonder and Mr Cranky Pants tangle tongues. Instead they keep as separate as they can. At first. When Donna once again worms her hand between them -maybe to better situate the vibes, maybe to notch up the vibrations, who knows- Hank’s head falls forward and Dirk doesn’t jolt away. They meet at the forehead, the pressure wordless commiseration. It’s the kind of intimate Garth hopes might be leveraged to actual kissing next time. If there is a next time. He doesn’t know, but god, please.

Surprising the room, Dawn is the first to orgasm. Her broken little whimpers as she walks the line, makes it to the end, and then walks backwards ratchet up until she’s loudly gasping for breath. Donna is at her side, when it happens. Dawn chokes out a moan and goes still, head dropping to Donna’s shoulders. Pansexual is a good label, he decides, because holy shit does he want to feel the hot breath of Dawn Granger on his clavicle.

He wants it so much for the first time he attempts to struggle in his bondage. The suspension is starting to get to him. The strain on his thighs with his ankles pulled to his ass is magnificent, like all the best parts of maintaining balance on a hydrant wave. Garth needs it to be more, needs some kind of _more_ , and he tries to prove it by wrestling out of his bonds. He doesn’t make it an inch. Donna knows her shit in this arena, like she knows her shit in every other situation she finds herself in. Garth doesn’t know the tensile strength of this particular rope, but it’s enough to hold an Atlantan.

There’s something exciting in struggling to buck and not making it. Garth knows he can’t come like this. There’s no pressure or sensation on anything of importance. Still, he’s possibly more turned on than he’s ever been before, and he can’t help but continue his futile struggles. Fuck. _Fuck_. If only someone was touching him.

He’s so distracted by his own body that he doesn’t even see Dirk and Hank come. He barely even hears it. Tomorrow he’s going to consider that a goddamn shame, he knows. Today Garth is vaguely happy for them as Donna unties them and helps them sit with underwear full of jizz, but most just wants a hand on his dick, on his ass, on his nipples. Wherever. He’s seriously not picky here.

“Oh, Garth,” Donna says, finally acknowledging him and the mess she’s turned him into. “You always need someone to touch you, don’t you?”

Garth could point out that everyone else got a whole lot more stimulation than he did, but he’s still weirdly not in the mood for speech. Shrugging doesn’t work in a suspended hogtie, so he stays silent.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

What follows might the be best moment of Garth’s life. Donna lowers his suspension until he can be reached with an upraised arm, then curls his fingers around his cock. He tries desperately to thrust into her hand, but still the ropes coiled around him allow for no movement. As with the rest of their long relationship, it’s entirely up to her to decide what to grant him. Thankfully she’s charitable, gives him enough of a stroke that his orgasm bursts out of him. 

While he’s still reeling in post orgasmic bliss, Donna takes care of the rest. She lowers him safely to the ground, unknots his rope holding his wrists to his feet first, then begins the work on the rest. Once he’s fully unwound, she drags him to where the rest of the Titans are curled up in huge bath sheets, still looking dazed. In the Tupperware bin of necessities must have been an elastic, as Dawn’s hair is pulled away from her sweaty face. Food too. Dirk’s eating a second banana, and Hank’s eating a cold PopTart right from the package. Donna doesn’t separate herself from them, despite being the obvious boss of everything. She sinks to the slightly springy padded floor and wraps Garth in his own enormous towel before reaching into the container and pulling out a grape juicebox. Ask Garth, the best flavour would be a supremely artificial Minute Maid style orange, but then he’s not the one drinking it. Though, he bets if he says something, Donna will have it in her supply kit next time. 

“Next time, any of you can give me the handjob. I mean it.” He does mean it, he just didn’t mean to say it yet. His brain had wanted to find the right situation, the better angle in which to declare it. His mouth is apparently too sloppy for strategy right now.

“Oh man, you’re so high on endorphins right now. It’s cute.”

Dirk must be seriously high himself, if he’s calling Garth cute.

“I’m not touching anyone’s dick,” Hank pronounces. He’s less mad than Garth would have guessed though, and he’s sitting close enough to Dirk that their knees are touching. Mutual vibrating orgasms must chill the guy out. A lesson Garth never thought he’d learn, but very good to know.

“We’ll see who touches what tomorrow,” Dawn intervenes before Dirk replies. Or Garth. She probably thinks Garth is about to say something too, it being his normal way of life. She has no way of knowing that Garth’s whole body just feels loose and quiet right now, declarations of sexual affection aside. “Tomorrow. No one’s touching me below the belt for at least twenty four hours.”

Garth can understand that. Dirty talking bravado and painful overstimulation are two very different things. As much as he’d go belly down on the floor if she announced a sudden need for the oral Donna promised her, he’s also very relaxed and nearly sleepy. He doesn’t really want to eat someone out right now, he’d really rather put his head down on Hank’s hairy leg and just be for a few minutes.

Well, however the next half hour plays out, he knows it’ll involve Donna making sure all their needs are met. Donna might not be next in line at home -being the apprentice of Princess Diana doesn’t make you heir- but she’s royalty here, the master of her court. Garth is happy to play around with the other nobles, in fact is now actively hoping to get with all of them at some point in the future, but he’ll never not bow to his plentiful queen.


End file.
